Justice Used To Mean Something
by DarkArrow225
Summary: With the entire world at war, New York has become a lawless city and it is taking its toll on Mac and his CSI team that are still trying their best to hold on to humanity in this chaotic world filled with crime. A bit on the AU side of the fence, but my "first" shot at really playing around with point of views.
1. Chapter 1: The World At War

**Author's Note: Alright, I know I might be annoying some people by starting so many stories and not working on the few I have already started, but I at least need these ideas down so I can later work on them even more! This story is a bit AU, set in a time of something like a "world war" of sorts. I might even play around with point of view in this story. I hope you enjoy! This was just a random spurt of an idea! –DarkArrow225**

_I saw it on the news. The world was officially at war._

_I never could've guessed what that meant for me and my team of CSIs working in New York City. The city changed so fast we couldn't even understand it. Crime rates shot through the roof and it quickly became clear that New York City would never be exactly the same as it was before the war._

_I told them something that came directly from my mind and heart. And I don't think I've ever heard or spoken more true words in my entire life. I told them this:_

"_Justice used to mean something in this city. We used to have a purpose as officers of the law. Now all any of us are are outlaws. We're all just trying to survive in this strange world that reminds me mostly of the wild, wild west before laws were ever brought there."_

_New York City was an outlaw land. And, boy, I never thought I'd see anything like this. I saw a good handful of things from time as a Marine and over 10 years of experience as a Crime Scene Investigator in this very city._

_So, enough ranting on and on…let me tell you the actual story. I'll start when I and one of my CSIs tried to process a scene in Jackson Heights…_

I backhanded sweat from forehead. Danny did the same beside me. We were both dressed extremely light, I in a t-shirt and jeans, Danny in a t-shirt and capris.

We were both drained of energy and starting to lose all faith in any kind of good surviving after the war started to get to people. The war affected everyone. Even me. And I'd seen war before, but not like this.

Never like that.

We jumped at every little sound. I sighed and tried to focus once more. Focusing only got harder with every hour. I'd had to use every last thing they taught me in the Marines just to keep myself and my team alive these past three months.

It was taking its toll.

My mouth felt dry and I licked my lips in an attempt to throw off such a distraction, but my dull eyes and slightly shaking hands told me I was in desperate need of water. I really needed to pay attention to that need more often.

I heard Danny sigh behind me as he packed up his forensics kit to head back to the lab. I stood with a sigh and left my bloodied latex gloves on my hands as I pocketed my penlight.

"You alright, boss?"

Danny sounded tired and when I looked at him, I saw the same exhaustion I felt showing in his eyes.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I lied. Danny knew I had lied, but he didn't push the matter. We'd all been lying. We were _not_ fine, but we were as fine as we could be in the world that we now had to live in.

"How's Lucy doing?" I asked, trying to distract both of us from the dark city, our exhaustion, and the war.

"About as good as we can keep her in this world," Danny replied. He looked at me and I watched as he sighed and shrugged a bit, seeming a bit lost for what to do. I didn't blame him.

"I'm just not sure what we should do these days, Mac. I mean, look at us…all of us!"

I sighed and nodded. "I know. Trust me, I know," I assured him. I felt so exhausted that saying I was half the man I used to be sounded pretty accurate to myself. I was a shadow of the detective I had been before the war.

I still had the same skills, same accuracy, but it was just harder to keep that up now that my strength-both physical and emotional-was draining away with every second.

We were both distracted by a sound. I laid a hand to my loaded gun that was in my holster and my blue gaze scanned everywhere I could see.

The two of them came out of nowhere and I winced as I felt a knife slash across my upper left arm. My back to the wall, I used what I knew in unarmed defense to fight off the attacker the best I could.

I never saw his face, never thought to look at his face.

Danny hadn't saw either of their faces either, but as quick as they'd come, they were gone.

Both of us had stood, tense, all our sense on high alert, for about two minutes.

They were completely gone.

Thankfully, Danny hadn't been hurt, but blood ran down my arm, making the injury look worse than what it was.

"Let me see that," Danny said, looking concerned.

Once again, I didn't blame him. I didn't even protest. Like I said, I was a shadow of what I used to be. Four months ago, I would've protested and said I was fine.

Now? I slouched in to the Avalanche outside the building we'd been processing in and closed my eyes as I leaned back in the seat, purely exhausted.

Danny did his best to clean up some of the blood on my arm and we used gauze from out kits to keep the bleeding down until we could get back to the lab. Hawkes could check me out there.

Danny drove, keeping an eye on me as I lay quietly in the passenger side seat of my truck, half-asleep because I was so wore out.

I owed him a thank you for not waking me once we got back to the lab.

We made it back to the lab and both of us stumbled as we headed in to the lab. Hawkes met us, giving us one glance over before sitting us both down and looking over us.

He cleaned up the cut on my arm, which wasn't very deep, and bandaged it to keep out infection. He even gave me a shot of antibiotics just to be sure. We couldn't risk it either way; we were already "short-staffed" as all of us were extremely worn out. We had crime scenes that still needed to be processed and no one to go to them.

Yeah. That's how bad our situation was.

Danny told me he'd handle getting the evidence we'd collected to the lab, so I got a bottle of water and went to me office, collapsing in my chair and unscrewing the cap on the bottle.

I pulled out my phone and tossed it somewhat carelessly to my desk, taking a long drink from the cold bottle of water.

I found myself going back to questions I asked before, turning on the news and letting it be my quiet background noise as my mind wandered to questions such as, _Why did we all go to war? What happened to make this city a shadow of its former self? How much longer can I keep up this strong act for my team? _Most importantly, I asked myself,

_How much longer can you keep yourself going like this? You can't handle this forever, Mac._

That was the million dollar question, wasn't it?

I sighed and held a hand to my head, trying to ignore the stinging pain from the cut on my arm, wondering how much more I could take, how long it would be before I was finally so worn down that anyone could walk up and take a swing at me and I wouldn't even think about trying to fight back.

That day seemed to get closer with every minute. I was not looking forward to that day, because I knew that would be the day when the outlaws on the street would kill me.

I knew they wouldn't even think twice. All I would be to them would be one less guy on the streets. More specifically, one less cop.

_What has the world come to these days?_


	2. Chapter 2: The Truth Stings

Later that same day, I lie at home on the couch.

I felt horrible. Just flat out horrible.

I closed my eyes once more and a sigh escaped my lips. I felt her gentle touch on my lower arm and I barely reacted. She knew I was in pain and she'd come home with me for the night and possibly longer if I kept this up.

I hated not being able to _not show_ my pain. It made me feel completely out of control and I didn't like to see the hurt in her eyes that I always saw when she knew I was in pain.

I was on the couch in my apartment because I'd been way too exhausted to even think about walking all the way to the bedroom. That's pretty sad, huh?

Like I've said time and time again, the man you see before you is only a shadow of his former self.

I've lost weight, probably a bit of that is me losing some of my muscles. And a whole lot of me losing heart. I am _not_ as strong as I used to be. Sid can't tell me I'm just not as young anymore. I'm literally not as strong. It doesn't help that I was shot only two years ago.

Like I give a fuck anymore anyways.

Stella came back to New York to help us out when Jo left. I sent her and Ellie away in a desperate attempt to keep one of my closest friends and her daughter safe. I'm not sure I made the right decision now.

I do think I'm sick. With what? Who the hell knows and who the fuck cares?

_Easy on the cussing, Taylor,_ I scold myself, opening my eyes just slightly before I close them again. Just lying here is taking my strength. It's like it's hard to breath.

I swear this war will be the death of me. Hell, it may even be the death of the only family I've known for years. Ever since 9/11…my team has been my only family.

I sent Christine away too. What the _fuck?_

With time to think about it, I think by doing that I fucked up the rest of my life. She's probably worried out of her mind about me, but I sent her away anyways and I haven't contacted her in a month and a half.

Yeah. Screwed that up.

Stella has a cool cloth on my forehead now. Guess she thought I was running a fever. It feels like I am, but how should I know? I can't even think straight so what am I to give any sort of opinion on my medical stuff.

_Stuff…huh…good word, Taylor._ There I go scolding myself again. Damn, I'm messed up.

Finally, I start to fall asleep. Key word, start. I never fell fully asleep as a jab of pain shot through me and I winced, raising my head and gritting my teeth.

Stella's there, just like I would expect her to be. She has a hand on my shoulder and I can see the concern in her eyes.

I lay back down, trying to ignore the nagging question of what's truly wrong with me. This is something I've never experienced or seen before and Stella hasn't either. It's got me worried, and I know she's worried about me.

Maybe it had something to do with that knife…

I shake my head a bit. _No…or…could it?_

I sigh and I force myself to relax as Stella continues to remain by my side.

"You know…I won't ever be able to pay you back for this one, Stell…"

My voice sounds rough, even to me. Something's definitely wrong with me.

"Shhh…don't worry about that, Mac," Stella soothes. I can only compare her voice to that of my mother's when I was sick as a kid. I look back at her, licking my dry lips and struggling to keep focused on what I want to tell her.

"I'm sorry…sorry for everything…" I say. Talking to her is seriously draining my strength, but I have to tell her what I want to tell her. What I know must be said if I'm never going to have the chance to tell her later.

"Don't be," Stella said. She has somehow managed to keep her voice calm, but I can see she wants to beg me to stop. I can see it her eyes. I sigh one more time and I can already feel my breathing's a little off. Whether she hasn't noticed or she's just hoping she's imagining things, I can't be sure.

"No," I say stubbornly. I'm not about to let her keep me quiet now. She needs to know that I never meant to yell at her all those years ago, I was just so concerned about her.

I loved her. She was like a sister to me. I needed to tell her…

I coughed and Stella had a hand on my shoulder. I looked back at her, feeling like I was a bit better after that although there was concern written clearly in my "younger sister's" face.

"Stella…I never told you that I loved you," I finally get out. I watch her reaction as I take in another shaky breath. She has a soft smile on her face. "You were always like a sister to me…more than a great friend…you knew me better than anyone," I added and watch as she quickly wipes tears from her eyes.

I think they were tears of happiness. "I know," she tells me softly.

There. I said it. I can let myself rest a bit now, or try to at least.

"You just rest," Stella tells me. Then I hear her softly add, "Big brother." I manage a smile as I close my eyes, ready to at least try and sleep.

With her by my side though, I can't. She reminds me of all those times we did cases with each other.

Especially of the time I followed her to Greece. That was a plane ride! It was somewhat strange to be in a whole other country, trying to work with that police…

So many memories…of better times in this world, when the sky wasn't always gray and when dark colored clouds didn't constantly hug the city.

Of times when there was at least a little bit of decency in the general public.

Those were the days I missed. The days when our jobs meant something. Not a lot of people knew how much it meant to CSIs like me when someone tells us "thank you."

It made the job worthwhile. So very, very worthwhile.

Now that that sort of thing rarely happened, I realized how much my job meant to me. I had been able to give closure to victim's families.

Closure was something I'd never had the luxury to have when the woman I loved the most was killed.

Damn. I missed her.

The thought of her nearly brought tears to my eyes now. This world was so lost in chaos that it nearly made me sorry that it seemed no one could possibly know such a strong love between someone.

There were still people here in New York City that knew such a thing as love. Those were the people the renewed my faith in humanity.

Another stab of pain shot through me and I grimaced, my jaw clenched against the almost constant pain. My problem was that I had physical and emotional pain.  
They were all right. I was a pain in the ass for not telling them some things I know now that I should have. Such a pain in the ass I was, and so stubborn!

Huh. I used to be stubborn. Wonder where the hell that went? Drained. Drained out just like my strength because that's what kept me going. My stubbornness was kind of the only thing I really had to hide behind most of the time.

The truth of that stings. I still feel Stella's hand on me and from the emotions I think I'm picking up on from her, she knows that the worst is probably really near for me and I know it as well.

It scares her and worries her. I force myself to look up at her and I also have to force what I intend to be a somewhat comforting smile.

I receive a smile in return, but it looks as forced as I know mine must've looked. Not because I was a careless person, it was because I had to force that smile through the pain. Through heartache after heartache.

I finally start to fall asleep. Sleep is a welcome thing at that moment, but as I start to drift off to sleep, I still know Stella is beside me, her hand still rested reassuringly on my arm…almost like she was warning me that she needed me to wake up.


	3. Chapter 3: I Told You To Stay In Chicago

Now, I'm not sure how much longer it was until I woke up again, but I didn't even have to open my eyes to know Stella wasn't beside me.

But someone else I knew was.

"I thought I told you to stay in Chicago?" I murmured as I opened up my eyes and looked over at the blonde sitting on the table in front of my couch. The soft smile on her face made me smile myself. _Now there's a sight for sore eyes._

"You can't keep me away from you forever, Mac," she said. "Remember? We're married now, Mac Taylor," she reminded me, holding out her hand with the ring I had finally bought her.

I nodded and sat up slowly. "Yeah, I'm not that old," I said, allowing myself a slight laugh.

She smiled and leaned in and kissed me. That was a long overdue favor, so I kissed her back and then we just sat there for a moment, so close to each other our noses touched.

"I missed you, Christine," I say.

She smiles softly and she puts her arms around my neck and I put my arms around her in return.

"I think I missed you more," I hear her whisper in my ear.

I smile and then she finally reveals the biggest reason for her coming back to New York. I saw it coming, but it still didn't change my reaction.

"Stella said you were sick…and hurt. I was worried about you," she said.

I look back at her, seeing the worry in her eyes and shaking my head slightly as I struggled to tell her something to put her mind at ease.

She laid two fingers gently against my lips so I ended up just looking back at her, my slightly brighter blue eyes filled with concern about her. "Mac, there's nothing you can say," she said softly and I had to stop looking at her eyes. I just couldn't handle it; she was making me feel a bit uneasy because there _was_ nothing I could say.

"You're going to be ok," I heard her say, her voice still quiet. She gently took my head in her hands and made me look back at her. I swallowed hard as we just looked searchingly in to each-other's eyes for a long moment. "You have to be, you hear me? I can't lose you."

I sigh softly and lay one of my hands on her one of hers, still on my cheek, and my gaze doesn't waver no matter how much it was killing me to see the worry, fear, and concern in her eyes. "I know. I'm doing my best," I say, my voice showing just how much I've been affected by everything.

"You know…when you were shot and you were in the hospital, that was one time too many of feeling like I'd lose you. I can't lose you, you have to be ok," she said. She was almost crying and the only thing I could think of to do was pull her in to a hug, which was exactly what I did.

"I know you're scared. I'm scared too, sweetheart. Trust me, I'm scared. I'm doing my best and I'm doing it for you and the team. I just don't know if it'll be enough yet or not," I said as she buried her face in my shoulder.

She was shaking. It brought memories flying back to me, of losing her, not knowing where she was and working with D.B. to try and find her. I was so worried about her and I had been so willing to take the law in to my own hands the second I felt that's what was needed. Memories of waking up in the hospital to find her by my bedside and how she had been there every day through my recovery after getting shot.

I owed her so much and here I was scaring her again and scaring myself. I sighed. "I'm sorry…I'm so sorry," I murmured.

CSI: New York

I leaned against him, he was scaring me witless. "Don't apologize, Mac!" I said, looking up at him finally. The pain in his eyes nearly threw me. The pain in his eyes wasn't because he was hurting physically, although I knew he was, but that pain showing in his eyes was the pain the he had because he was scaring me and he had me worried.

I quickly wiped the tears from my eyes. "You don't owe me anything for what I did after you were shot. _Nothing._ You love me and I love you. That's all I need, Mac," I told him, taking one of his hands in mine and looking down at my hand as I held on to his.

I was just so scared for him. I wouldn't have stayed in Chicago if someone had a gun to my head. He'd scared me when he was shot, and here I was scared again. I just couldn't lose him.

The very real possibility he wouldn't be able to keep fighting what this new world was doing was what ate at me and scared me the most. I wasn't going to leave him now, I just wouldn't. He needed me and both he and I knew it.

The fact that he knew it made me realize how much of the old Mac had been worn away by this struggle to survive. I would have usually expected him to not admit it, but the look in his eyes told me he knew fully that he needed me and, as I searched his blue eyes a bit more, he wanted me there.

"I was wrong sending you away, I can't do this without you."

It was the first time he'd spoken in a little bit. I put a hand on his shoulder.

"Come on, let's go to bed. It is 3 in the morning after all."

He nodded and we stood together, his hand in mine and we went to bed together. I fell asleep knowing that I was where I was needed and where I wanted to be. I also knew that it may not be so peaceful in time, but I wasn't going to leave him.

He needed me and I needed him. It was the only way we were going to make it through these few dark and horrible days.


	4. Chapter 4: More On The War

**Author's Note: So, I got a review asking for more on the other members of the team and a bit more on the war, so I hope to answer to the review in this chapter! Hope you enjoy!**

**CSI: New York**

I walked in to the lab the next morning with Stella and Christine flanking me. Last night with Christine really brought back a bit of my strength that had been seeping away for so long because of no love and humanity in the world of chaos. Once again, I was dressed pretty simply, a t-shirt and jeans, but something else was on my person today besides my badge and Glock. Around my neck dangled my dog tags from days as a Marine. Christine had unearthed them from the world of my apartment earlier, since we didn't go to bed until 3 in the morning, and she'd convinced me to wear them.

It hadn't taken much convincing. So, with a new determination in my eyes, I led the two ladies through the lab to the conference room to meet up with the team and discuss what the hell we were going to do about this hell hole of a city that we lived in.

"What's on the news this morning?" I ask as the three of us walk in, I heading for the head of the table to snatch a seat beside Danny and Adam while Christine and Stella staid near the door.

"More news on the war, they're going over how this all started," Don said.

_I guess I did leave that out when I started telling you this story of heartbreak and pain…well, they do say there's no time like the present, and so I'll take a break from telling you our story and tell you more about the war itself._

_So…the war…we kind of all saw it was coming. Maybe not to this extent, but we knew that something would happen. Countries had started getting a bit on-edge with each other-you know that whole political shitload…I hate politics…but anyways, that's a different story-and then we all turn around twice and there's a news report on how the entire world is at war. We're talking North Korea, South Korea, China, Russia, the United States, Europe…every country in the world seems to be at war, especially the major ones. It was so sudden! Of course, me being a former Marine, I had knowledge of how they most likely would deploy troops…but God…my understanding was far more limited than what you may think. After all, my days as a Recon Marine are over 10 years behind me and I've kind of settled in to this slightly more regular life of working in New York City and being a Crime Scene Investigator. Hmph…I would've never thought in a million years that we would _ever_ go in to something even remotely resembling a thing that we would one day call "World War Three." I mean, every typical teenager had grown up learning about WW1 and WW2 in history class, right? It never crossed my mind that one day, I may be able to tell my own kids about my experience in World War Three…not for one second._

_It just didn't seem possible._

_Anyways, the world was at war. It was totally official across every country on Earth. It just went downhill from there. The major cities fell in to what can only be described as an undying chaos-almost as if we fell right on to the set of something like _The Walking Dead_ only without all the zombies running around. One of those cities, as you probably already know or have guessed, was New York City. It was one of the first cities in the United States to go in to such a state of chaos and crime. Some cities, however, like Chicago-that being the reason I sent Christine, Jo, and Ellie there-managed to stay mostly free of such a hell._

_Alright, I think that's enough you guys…We should get back to the story now:_

"What are they saying?" I asked, turning my attention to the screen as I started to truly pay attention to the news.

"They're talking about how politics went nuts and then the geniuses that run the governments all declared war on each other and then the entire fucking world fell in to chaos," Don said. His sarcasm was so evident when he mentioned the political leaders that I found it comical…to a point at least. I was still sore from yesterday and the days before, not to mention I was still tired and suffering from a minor headache at the moment.

I nodded. "I hate politics," I muttered.

Danny put a hand on my shoulder, but neither of us looked at each other. Our gazes remained fixed on the screen as we listened and watched as they showed pictures of the cities that had succumbed to the chaos and told the story about what was going on beyond America's borders and how we all had ended up in such a terrible, terrible war.

After a while, we finally turned off the TV and got down to business. I looked down at the sheets of paper in my hands, looking over what cases we still needed to start looking in to, what cases needed finished, and what cases I needed to file in a new box that I had added to the others on my shelves in my office that we all knew as "Solved-Unfinished."

Truthfully, we could say that the cases were finished, but they technically still needed to be taken to the DA and the killer put on trial. In this world, we didn't have that extent of a justice system, so we just called them "Solved" cases and, based on past experience with those types and extents of crimes, locked up the killers for a set time that was decided by me, Stella, Don, Danny, and other senior officers on the force that remained.

Some system of justice, huh?

I know, it may seem unfair, but it was the only way we knew how to keep the killers off the streets with the resources we had.

I sighed and looked over the first two scenes that hadn't been processed yet on the list.

"I want Hawkes and Don to check out the scene downtown and Stella," I said, looking up at Stella standing behind me, "to take Lindsey and do the scene in Brooklyn."

Stella nodded and headed off to gather Lindsey as I pulled my cell out to alert Hawkes and Don of their scene.

I assigned myself to work on the case Danny and I had started the day before and then I decided I'd work on filing our solved cases and going over the case reports with those cases.

Just another day at the office, right?

I frowned just a bit at that thought and stood, heading in to the lab. Christine headed back to my place in her car. I had promised I'd call her if I needed her before she left and then we'd kissed and we'd just looked at each other for a moment.

It still nagged at me that she seemed to have warned me to be careful. To make sure I came home that night to her safe and sound.

As I pulled the evidence and those thoughts ran through my mind, I found myself running a finger or two over the engraved words on my dog tags. Those tags had my full name, rank, and division written on them in a form that was something similar to this:

_McKenna Llewellyn Taylor_

_Major_

_United States Marines_

What was written on them exactly, I didn't quite remember or stop to look at. I took a bit of strength from my past though. I'd keep fighting this, just like we'd been taught to do in the Marines. That kind of dedication ran in my blood, and I didn't plan to let my father down. Or my team, or Christine. We'd find a way. Besides, I remember hearing somewhere this phrase,

"Life finds a way."


End file.
